


As She Sleeps

by alylynn122



Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Alec Ryder's A+ Parenting, Father-Daughter Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, POV Drack, Team as Family, chosen family, introspective
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2019-02-18 04:50:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13092765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alylynn122/pseuds/alylynn122
Summary: Drack has a habit of finding Ryder sleeping, and decides someone has to do something about it. Eventually, she notices.





	1. Chapter 1

Drack smiled to himself as he stepped off the elevator. His hearing wasn’t what it once had been, but he was easily able to hear the quiet snores of the Pathfinder echoing down the hall from the galley. Humans made so much noise when they slept, it was a wonder their species had survived at all.    


He found her halfway spilled from her chair, her head leaning against her arm on the table, next to a half-eaten ration bar, mouth open and sleeping the sleep of the dead, a feat all human biotics truly seemed to master. In his eyes, he saw Kesh falling asleep over her half-cleaned rifles in the days following her Rite. But he had never felt as protective of Kesh as he did over Ryder. His granddaughter, even when she was small, was still a krogan. Plates, redundant organs, and all. Ryder, well the kid was barely an adult by human standards, still in puberty according to some extranet sites he had read. When she slept, it would take only a small knife to plunge an inch into her skin and sever her spinal cord, and that’d be it. Too soft, these humans. When she was awake, Ryder could hold her own in a fight. But like this? Drack looked at her again. Vulnerable. Not a hard line on the girl.    
  
It had taken some time for Drack to become accustomed to the uncomfortable feeling of worry. Krogan didn’t fuss over the young like new asari mothers. Even to be born, a krogan had to beat out all the rest. They were born tough, a single living child came at the expense of a thousand tiny corpses. Kesh was no different, he’d never had a reason to worry. But with Ryder? Well, human babies took almost a year to learn how to walk, if one could call it that. That said everything he needed to know about the species. The kid was still learning to walk, now with the added weight of the galaxy on her shoulders. It was no surprise she avoided sleep. He’d heard her calling out for her parents or brother in her nightmares. He’d known what it was to be alone, before Kesh.    
  
He reached out and laid a massive arm across the Pathfinder’s shoulders, shaking her gently as he called her name. Ryder didn’t stir, although her snoring stopped and she groaned, moving her shoulders to shake off the disturbance. Her movement jarred her, and she slipped from the chair. Acting on reflex, Drack caught her before she hit the ground, his hand shooting up to catch her head as his other arm pulled her back up and to him. She woke a bit, her eyes shooting open, her vision still glazed. She saw his face staring down at her and mumbled something, her hand coming up to pat his armored chest before her head fell back against his arm and she was out again. The old krogan chuckled, shifting her weight so he had another arm under her knees. He carried her to the elevator that way, pressing the button while doing his best not to drop her.    
  
“I’m getting to old for this, kid,” he muttered as he stepped into the elevator with her. Ryder didn’t answer, instead she pressed her face closer to the warm skin in the crook of his elbow, her hot breath ghosting over the scales there. Drack huffed warmly. He hadn’t done this since Kesh was small. He wasn’t about to say he missed it, but there was a certain fondness growing over him right now. That, and worry. The kid shouldn’t be this out of it, even if she had used her biotics today. He thought back to the ration bar, half-eaten on the table, and shook his head. Damned human, getting under his skin. This was the Pathfinder of all people, she was just a little tired, that’s all.    
  
At least, that’s what he told himself. But as he laid her down in her bed and pulled the blanket up over her, watching her pull it close and cuddle into it like a varren pup, he knew he was wrong. This was the Pathfinder, sure, the one in charge of finding a home for them all, the one they were all counting on. But like this? She was just a 22-year-old kid who’d lost everything on her first day awake, and was pushing herself to the edge trying to live up to her dad’s legacy. Just because she could step into his shoes didn’t mean they fit, though. She was slipping. Everyone knew she spent her free time on the Hyperion staring at her brother’s unresponsive form, or in her dad’s quarters. Drack knew as well as anyone that you’d lose yourself living only in the company of ghosts.    
  
He was old, not much longer left by Krogan standards. Maybe another twenty, thirty years if he was lucky. Kesh would be fine, she’d stopped needing him long ago even though they were still close. But Ryder? It was clear Ryder needed someone, and if the only one willing was an old krogan who only had a few years left, he was happy to spend his last days doing something right for once.    
  
A smile still playing at the corners of his mouth, he dimmed the lights on his way out and turned back for one last look at the ball of blankets he’d suddenly gotten so attached to.    
  
And if he snuck back a few hours later to put a few ration bars on her bedside table before turning in for his own scant hours of sleep, well, that was something that could just stay between them.    
  
And apparently that damned AI, if Ryder thanking him in the morning with a wry smile on her face was any indication. 


	2. Chapter 2

“Really, kid, again?” Drack grumbled as he set down the ration bar and coffee he had brought up with him. He’d expected he would have to bully her into eating after their day on the Archon’s ship, instead she was passed out cold at her research terminal, fingers still twitching over the keys. She wasn’t snoring this time. Instead, she was tense, murmuring under her breath that was coming much too quickly for her to be dozing gently.    
  
He laid a hand on her shoulder, and she shot up quickly, hands flaring blue with her biotics.    
  
“Easy kid,” he rumbled, “it’s just me.”    
  
Ryder flopped back into the chair loosely, her eyes losing their glaze of fear as she met his gaze. He remembered that same look when she had woken up from the dead, for what he was told was the second time. He shuddered, thinking again of watching the needle slide into her neck as he struggled helplessly against the stasis field. What good did armor do if it didn’t protect her most vulnerable parts?    
  
“Drack?” she asked, her voice catching just a tad. He laid his hand on her shoulder again, and this time she relaxed under it.    
  
“Rough day, huh kid?”    
  
She nodded. They didn’t need to say it. The salarian pathfinder was a heavy cost to save a few scattered krogan, but Ryder had known as well as he did that they needed every krogan possible for the species to have a chance in this galaxy.    
  
“I won’t ever forget this, Ryder. You chose the Krogan first. You looked at us and saw more than just cannon fodder. Whatever anyone else says, you’re a hero,” he said. She looked up at him, eyes wide under the unexpected praise and a smile ghosted at her lips. She was still so weighed down, so many deaths on her tiny shoulders and so many people demanding to know why, how, who, where….    
  
“I’m proud of you,” he said, out of nowhere. The words felt insincere, too small to account for the magnitude of his gratefulness and awe of her, but if her small gasp was any indication, she knew the sentiments behind it.    
  
“Thank you,” she replied softly, her hand coming up to cover his own on her shoulder. The gesture was a little awkward, Drack wasn’t typically an affectionate person, but then again, Ryder typically didn’t let people touch her. Awkwardness didn’t negate the affection behind the gesture.    
  
“Come on, take a break from that,” he said, looking over her shoulder to read the kett files she had opened on the screen. He turned her chair towards the cooling coffee and ration bars he’d brought up.    
  
“You need to eat something,” he said, handing her the cup. She looked at it oddly, sniffing at it before taking a sip and sighing.    
  
“How did you know?” she asked, gesturing with the cup in such a way that coffee sloshed onto the floor at her feet. Her eyes followed it wearily, and she set the cup down to reach for a bar. Drack pretended he didn’t see her hands shaking.    
  
“I’m old, kid, not blind. I’ve seen you make your coffee before. The machine only has so many buttons,” he grumbled with a smile. Ryder smiled back at him, flashing her white teeth a little too much before pulling it back into something softer, a little more sincere. He enjoyed these moments with her, where he wasn’t her squadmate and she wasn’t the Pathfinder, they were just Drack and Ryder. It was nice to see the girl behind the armor sometimes.    
  
“Thanks, Drack, I needed this,” she said as she tore open a ration bar. She brought it to her mouth and took a bite before paling slightly and setting the bar down with a forced motion.    
  
“Ryder?” Drack asked, concern lacing his tough voice.    
  
“I…. I think I’m going to be sick,” she said, then stood and rushed for the nearest trash can. Moments after her head was in it, he heard liquid hitting the bottom of it.    
  
After a moment, she sagged against the plastic bin, and he walked up next to her to glide a hand gently up her back before letting it drop as he kneeled next to her.    
  
“You should go see Lexi, kid, you might be reacting to whatever that pyjack injected you with.”   
  
Ryder swallowed and opened her mouth to speak, but was hit with another wave of nausea that had her face turning green before it disappeared into the trash can again. Green now too? Humans were so damn colorful.    
  
She was putting thresher maws to shame with the amount her stomach was forcing up. He considered the few sips of coffee she had, and chalked this one up to another weird human anatomical thing. After a minute, she sat back on her haunches and swiped at her mouth with her shirt sleeve, grimacing. Drack patted her back heavily, and she leaned into him as she rose, unsteady on her feet.    
  
“It’s not that, I just… Those bodies….”    
  
She turned green again, and Drack grabbed the trash can just in time for her to empty her stomach into it again. How many stomachs did humans have?    
  
“Still getting used to it all, huh kid?” he asked when she was finished again. He set the trash can down and tried to ignore the stench of sick in the air.    
  
“How long did it take before it got easier for you?” she asked as she sank back into her chair, eyeing the coffee and ration bar with distaste. Drack scooped them away and out of sight.    
  
“It never gets easier, kid,” he admitted, “you just learn to stop looking.”    
  
She frowned, her brow furrowed in thought. Whatever was going through her head, she eventually settled on a thought and made sense of it.    
  
“Drack?”    
  
“What?”    
  
“What if I’m not cut out for this?”    
  
The krogan laughed bluntly, and Ryder’s eyebrows arched in surprise, the scar on her right brow turning white with the tension.    
  
“Ryder, you’re the only one cut out for this. Anyone else in your position would have tucked tail and run like a scared salarian by now.”    
  
Ryder smiled, albeit half-heartedly, but it was a real one at least.    
  
“Come on, kid, let’s get you into bed,” the krogan said before she could reply, offering her a hand up from her seat. She was more than capable of rising on her own, and he wasn’t exactly the chivalrous type. But right now, it felt right. She took his hand and pulled herself up, her soft palms chafing against his calloused ones.    
  
“I’m going to tell Kallo you said that,” she admonished without heat. Drack grinned, all teeth and threat.    
  
“Then I’m going to tell him you said his music taste is terrible,” he replied, loping after her into the elevator. Ryder grimaced.    
  
“How did you,” she said, then paused, “....Damn krogan hearing.”    
  
Drack’s laugh filled the elevator with it’s low timbre, and soon Ryder was joining in. Neither was really sure what they were laughing at, but sometimes it was needed to chase away the sorrow.    
  
And if Ryder asked him to sleep on her couch that night with soft eyes and a pleading smile, and then ended up punching him in the jaw when he tried to awake her from a nightmare….    
  
Well, no one really needed to know.    
  
“I would advise you to seek painkillers in the medbay for your bruised jaw.”    
  
Except for, apparently, that damned AI. 


	3. Chapter 3

_ The Pathfinder is down.  _ _   
_ _   
_ SAM’s modulated voice spoke through his head set, and both Drack and Jaal froze to look at each other. Ryder had gone on ahead as usual, charging the snipers before they could line up their shots.    
  
“You take care of these, I’ll go get her,” the krogan said as he kicked a wraith towards the alien. Jaal nodded, adjusting his grip on his gun before emptying a few rounds into the creature’s skull.    
  
Drack didn’t take his time finding the kid. He fired his shotgun as he went and headbutted anything that got too close for bullets to deal with. He found her on a gangway, only a few feet from the Nomad, dangling dangerously close to the edge of the long drop. Within moments, he had her in his arms, barreling his way through the remaining kett until he managed to pop open the hatch on the blasted vehicle and swing her up into the passenger seat. He climbed in on the other side, taking a minute to shift the seat back so he could reach the pedals before jumping over the gangway and landing on a squad of Chosen that were blocking Jaal.    
  
“ _ Get in” _ , he growled over the comms, and waited until he heard the latch slam shut behind Jaal before using the thrusters to get as far away as they could. It was only until they had gone several miles without hearing even a gunshot that he dared to stop. No sooner did his foot leave the brake than he was pulling Ryder into the back of the vehicle, pulling off her helmet and tearing at her armor to get to the soft flesh beneath. The inside of her helmet stank of blood, and his fingers found their way to the back of her head, finding a large gash and warm liquid spilling over his ungloved hands.    
  
“Call for extraction.  _ Now! _ ” he ordered, smearing medigel on the back of Ryder’s head, watching her hair clump to the oozing wound. Behind him, he heard Jaal’s panicked voice calling the Tempest.    
  
_ “Lexi here, we’re on our way, eta about five minutes. How is the Pathfinder?”  _ _   
_ _   
_ “She’s losing a lot of blood, and won’t wake up,” Jaal replied, looking over the seats to where Ryder lay on the Nomad floor.    
  
_ “Did you administer medigel to the injury?” _ _   
_ __   
“Of course I did, I wasn’t born yesterday. Just get your asses out here, we’ll hold on,” Drack snapped. His hands busied themselves removing the rest of Ryder’s armor and her undersuit, leaving her in her shorts and tank top. Her flesh was mottled with bruises, shining sickly purple on her sweat-soaked skin.    
  
It felt like hours before the Tempest finally showed. Jaal guided the Nomad into the hull while Drack gathered the kid up and carried her out into the ship, where Lexi was waiting with a stretcher and oxygen mask. He laid her down as gently as he was able, fingers lingering only a second on her head before he lowered it to the padded surface as well. The minute she was out of his grip, Lexi carted her off to the medbay, wheels screeching as she went. A cold dread enveloped the krogan, and he found himself sauntering down the hall after the asari.    
  
Lexi was reading stats into her omnitool, her voice grave and hands quick as she scanned over Ryder’s still form, watching the hologram of her skeleton pop up on one of the machines to her left, outlining fractures and other concerning injuries. Drack was no doctor, but he could tell by the look on the asari’s face that something wasn’t right.    
  
“What is it?”    
  
“Her vitals are off the charts,” Lexi replied as she gathered supplies from her cabinets, “If you’re going to stand there, make yourself useful. Elevate her feet, and keep this pressed to the back of her head.”    
  
She handed him a handful of white gauze, then went back to her rummaging. Not one needing clarification, Drack used one arm to hoist up Ryder’s legs and shove a pillow under her knees, and another to turn her head and press the bandages against her wound. The blood was flowing considerably slower now, the more superficial parts of the gash having closed with the medigel.    
  
“What happened out there? SAM?”    
  
“I believe the majority of Ryder’s wounds came from an Anointed she didn’t see, Dr. T’perro, though her head wound seems to fit the trajectory of a sharpshooter more,” the AI replied.    
  
“How the hell did she miss an Anointed?” Drack demanded.    
  
“She was busy charging another one before it could fire up its gun, it would seem.”   
  
Drack shook his head at the kid, pressing the gauze harder against the wound in an effort to save any brains she had left.    
  
“Damn kid, even krogan aren’t that stupid.”    
  
After two hours of ordering Drack about and then one hour of him standing outside the medbay door while Lexi fixed wounds that demanded Ryder be unclothed, the lock finally blinked green before opening to allow the krogan inside.    
  
He found the doctor cleaning up a mess of bloodied bandages and supplies, dropping them down the shoot to the garbage airlock.    
  
“She’s had a rough go of it, I wouldn’t be surprised if she is out for a few hours yet. Her head took quite a beating, I had to give her forty stitches just to get the flesh to hold together long enough for medigel to adhere. She’ll be okay, but she won’t be out in the field for at least a week, more if that leg doesn’t heal right.”    
  
“Thanks doc, I’ll be sure to tell her. Why don’t you get some rest?”    
  
Lexi pursed her lips in thought before nodding, her eyes softening as they landed on Ryder. She’d put a medical gown on the scrawny human, and tucked a blanket around her feet and abdomen.    
  
“I’ll do that. Have SAM call if you need anything or if she wakes up,” she ordered finally. Drack nodded, pulling up a pathetically tiny stool to lounge beside the bed. He heard the doors close and lock behind him, and found himself grateful they wouldn’t be disturbed.    
  
“SAM?” he said after a while, his hand creeping towards the bed to rest on Ryder’s upper arm.    
  
“Yes?”    
  
“Thank you,” Drack grumbled.    
  
“You’re welcome,” SAM returned cordially.    
  
It wasn’t much, but Drack knew he was in trouble now, even more so than when he first felt affection for the kid. Because now?    
  
Now he was starting to like that damned AI. 


End file.
